


We Are No Regret

by howlingstiles



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies, M/M, Mutual Pining, Pining, Sharing Clothes
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-12-26
Updated: 2016-12-26
Packaged: 2018-09-02 07:07:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,794
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8655358
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/howlingstiles/pseuds/howlingstiles
Summary: “Ever feel like taking over the world?” Stiles asks. His gaze on the stars.“Sometimes,” Jackson answers. His gaze on Stiles.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts).



> This is a gift to Alt, as thanks for inspiring me with gifs. Although this isn't what I had in mind at first, so I'm hoping it'll come full circle.

Getting stuck in the rain while he and the pack went out strengthening their bonds under the full moon with the human members staying back at the house (and dry from the rain) wasn’t as fun as some of his pack mates thought. Erica had pushed him into a mud puddle before jumping on him. Jackson stayed at the edges of the pack while they dried off on McCall’s back porch. Towels were passed around and clothes were peeled off. It all lands in dark clumps that look soaked into the wood. Lydia and Allison handed out drinks. Lydia leaned against him for a moment while he sipped his water before making her way to Cora.

He observed them all from his perch on the railing.

Erica, Boyd, and Isaac stick together, just like in high school, but Erica comes forward and nudges Stiles in greeting. She’s gotten better, after the Alpha pack fiasco (and Stiles bringing her back to life). Boyd still follows her lead and brushes against Stiles to grab some food he prepared for them. Isaac keeps his distance. He’s always favored Scott over Stiles. Scott ignores Stiles, heading straight for Kira. Kira, for her part, looks annoyed before Scott distracts her. Derek and Peter both come up to Stiles, ruffle his hair and pat his back. Cora glomped Stiles in a headlock before claiming Stiles’ abandoned chair.

Stiles catches his eye and grins with a wave, he waves back. While he and Stiles have been on... _better_ terms, they still dance around each other. Jackson feels like shit for treating Stiles like shit and now having to slowly mend a friendship with him. But it’s not that bad. It’s only bad when _she_ interrupts.

Malia shimmies out her bottoms and tank top flop off in a wet _thump_ on the porch behind her and stepped into the towel Stiles had open and stretched out waiting for her. She nuzzled into his neck on her tiptoes with a rumble. Stiles laughed and rubbed his cheek in her hair. Scent marking back in the only way any of the humans caught on. Which was only Stiles.

Lydia and Allison try, but Stiles is the only one that accepts it and gives back. Though that might be his touch-starved self needing to be affection.

Jackson looked away from them with a huff. He came back to see _this_?

He watches the rain fall like a parallel relativity from the safety of the porch. He shivered in his soggy clothes and ignored the pack as they got dry and used up all the towels. Wouldn’t be the first time Jackson was forgotten. Stiles walked around making sure everyone is properly getting dry ‘ _You never know if you can get sick, Derek and Peter won’t tell me shit’_. His wolf pushed its claws at his ribs, where it rests caged when he isn’t in danger, with a whine.

The wolf is Jackson down to the bare bones. It’s body mutated and warped. The wolf is a reflection of what happened to it because of Jackson’s old selfish nature. It had scales along its entire body. It serves as a reminder of Jackson at his lowest and the death that plagued Beacon Hills. The pack doesn’t look at Jackson’s wolf if they can help it.

Like how the pack doesn’t look at Stiles when he gets angry. Vengeful. When goes eerily silent and motionless, movements thought-out and controlled. How Allison grabs her bows or guns and keeps her eyes on Stiles when he gets that way. Even though he brought her back to life she will never be thankful to him. Will only see the Nogitsune and the Oni piercing her body with a katana.

Even with all that knowledge, the wolf knows Stiles is their perfect match, that it wants him as much as Jackson does. They aren’t mates, mates don’t exist. But if they did, Jackson wishes, _hopes_ , Stiles is his.

He’s tried for years to ignore Stiles and his stupid crush (not really a crush) on him since he was five. Even after becoming a Kanima Jackson couldn’t kill him. Not with Matt’s influence and, he visibly shivered, not Gerard’s. Oh, Jackson could hurt Stiles, leave him in a boneless pile on the ground, but he couldn’t hurt Stiles enough to kill. He fought every order Matt threw at him to get rid of Stiles, that he was getting in his way, that the Sheriff’s son was going to  _ruin_ everything if he’s alive. Every thought for Jackson rip Stiles to shreds, to paint his body and surrounding death bed with his innards, carve out warnings disguised as warnings in his skin.

Remembering choked him like a noose.

Nobody knows that it was Stiles hitting him with his piece of a crap jeep (that he will never speak ill things of to Stiles, it’s a no brainer who’s jeep that was) that kickstarted his transformation into a werewolf. Lydia finished it because he does love her, his love for her is true. But he never loved her like he slowly grew to love Stiles. Infinite, as nauseating as it is to think that. Seeing Stiles beaten, broken down to a husk of the confident asshole he is and uncared for, his rage nearly consumed him. He was aware while Gerard beat the shit out Stiles. While he couldn’t hear Stiles’ pleas, he does know how to read lips.

A hand resting tenderly on his hand that was digging his claws into his arm shocked him into retracting them. The wind shifted and Stiles’ natural scent of - warm sugar, neglect, medication - coiled around him like the snake Stiles is. His shoulders untighten and his stance relaxed.  _ Safe _ , his wolf said. Jackson refused to admit he agreed in less than a heartbeat.

“Dude, why aren’t you getting out your clothes? I may not be a werewolf but standing in those clothes has to bad for you.” Stiles looked around for a towel and deflated when he saw they were all being used.

His fingers tapped against Jackson’s hand. Jackson watched as his mouth pouted as he thought, eyes narrow to slivers. Stiles snapped his fingers and looked at him with shiny eyes and maniac grin. His heart lurched at knowing it wasn’t because of him, not really. With it aimed at him, Jackson felt lighter. More comfortable in his skin. “Okay, so I know you don’t hate us as much as you do. Well. You don’t hate me as much as you did, that much is obvious. So you can borrow my clothes if you want? I have spares the jeep. They  _ might  _ be a little sweaty.”

Jackson cleared his throat and leveled his heart, the last thing he needs is McCall on his ass. Peter is bad enough. “Yeah, thanks.”

Stiles nodded and headed into the kitchen. Jackson stayed on the porch, listening to Stiles putter around. He walked out a minute later with an umbrella in his hands and backpack on his shoulder.

“Give me a minute and you’ll be in new clothes.” Stiles dashed into the rain with mocking howls. The pack ignored his antics and went inside not paying attention to Jackson still in soaking clothes. Peter crept forward and watched Stiles fumble around in the rain for clothes to shove in his bag. Jackson may be one of the only people in the pack that like Peter, aside from Stiles and sometimes Derek. Cora is a different matter. Scott still makes cases of how he should be trusted and not trusting the man himself. The hypocrite.

“I’m surprised the others haven’t caught on, you sure scent your emotions out for even dear Scott to identify.” They both roll their eyes, that is a little  _ too  _ unlikely but Jackson knows what Peter means. Albeit begrudgingly. “And,” Peter started, continuing to watch Stiles slide in the mud, “he likes you, too. Don’t you dare tell him I told you, I like my body the way it is. Thank you.”

Jackson splutters. He wants to believe Peter, he really,  _ really  _ does want to believe him. The man has been a very big part in helping him with, well, everything, and actually looking out for him. He’s the one that bought Jackson’s one-way ticket to Beacon Hills. So why would Peter have a reason to lie to him? A bag tossed to him jarred his thoughts. Stiles’ grinning face glowed from catching a wolf off guard. Jackson sneered half-heartedly and hurried inside to change.

He stood on the second-floor landing trying to remember where the bathroom is. Jackson smelt Melissa before he saw her.

“Last door on the left, Jackson.” Her smile is patient. He nodded his thanks and makes a quick leave. He’s been the receiving end of Melissa’s not-patient smiles. Jackson stares in the mirror, his hair has gotten long and his undercut needs to be redone. His dark circles are prominent and purple. Rubbing his eyes he grabbed the clothes from the bag and paused. The scent that circled the air was unmistakably Stiles’ sweat (and the ozone of his magic), but, but it smelled like him too.

He inspected the plain black t-shirt. It looked like it would be a tight fit for Stiles’ shoulders, more suited for Jackson’s. Caressing the material brought it closer to his nose and inhaled. His scent is deeply mingled with Stiles’.

_ When did Stiles take his shirt? _

A knock jarred the door. “Hey, you alright, Jacks? You’ve been in there for awhile.” Jackson could feel Stiles’ worry. It’s nice.

Jackson cleared his throat, “Yeah. Yeah, I’m fine, just tired.”

He threw the shirt on and tugged on the knee-holed pants that collected at his ankles. Stiles is leaned against the opposite wall with his hands shoved in his pockets. Demeanor relaxed and sleepy. He pushed off the wall with a half-hearted grin. 

“Thanks, Stiles.” They watched each other momentarily.

Stiles nodded. “No problem, I can drop you off at your house? My dad wants family dinner night so I can’t stay much longer.” Jackson nodded and agreed. He too off-steady to drive.

They made their way downstairs and said their goodbyes. Well, Stiles said goodbye to the pack, kissed Derek’s cheek and darted off snagging his sleeve and opening the umbrella in one go and flying out the house. The walk to the jeep was uneventful aside from Stiles almost falling from mud puddles. Stiles fiddled with the heat before what Jackson assumes is a mediocre full-blast comes through.

Stiles rubbed his fingers together and blew into them. “Ready?”

“I just want to sleep, Stilinski.” Stiles held his hands in a placating manner before pulling the jeep out of McCall’s driveway and headed downtown.

**Author's Note:**

> So, the first chapter isn't finished. But this draft was going to be deleted tonight and I didn't feel like retagging everything.


End file.
